


Layers

by iopeneditbeforechristmas



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iopeneditbeforechristmas/pseuds/iopeneditbeforechristmas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin finds out parties aren't always as bad as he'd thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Layers

“Remind me why I have to do this again?” Armin muttered, face flat.

“Because!” Eren grinned. “It’s a party, Armin. People have those, you know? When they want to celebrate things? And it’s my birthday, you’re my best friend, you have to come.”

“If I’m your best friend why can’t you respect that and allow me to retreat back to my own house where I can have the comfort of people who don’t exist? Or at least whose existence is not directly equated to being alive and breathing.”

“Armin, why d’you always have to say these things with a straight face? Like, I get that you’re a morbid piece of shit who likes to spend his entire time reading about creepy unsolved historical murders or something, but not all of us share these interests! Some of us want to spend our birthdays without being thoroughly creeped out by vampire princesses or something.”

Armin sighed. “Eren, if you’re talking about that time I told you about Elizabeth Bathory, she was not a vampire princess, she was merely a Hungarian countess who liked to bathe in the blood of virgin girls, and she is barely strange. I still don’t understand why you were so scared of her.”

“Yeah…” Eren said, throwing Armin a nervous look. “You know, when you talk about this shit like that, you kinda sound even creepier. Like, Count Dracula kinda creepy.”

“I apologise,” Armin replied, keeping his face expressionless. “I shall endeavour to communicate in a far more casual fashion in the future.”

Eren glared at him, before smacking him around the head lightly. “Come on Armin, lighten up! It’s a party! You’re wearing cool clothes! I brushed my hair! Mikasa will be here, and she will also be wearing cool clothes!”

Armin sighed. “Is this party literally just an excuse for you to try and get off with her again? Because I guarantee you Jean will have the exact same motive.”

Eren’s face fell, before settling into a scowl. He clenched his fist. “You’re right! That’s the only reason the fucker’s gonna turn up, isn’t it?”

“Well, I think the concept of free food and alcohol is quite enticing too. Also the fact that despite the animosity you two insist on displaying every time you’re around each other in public, you are friends and apparently friends have to turn up to each other’s birthday parties.”

Eren stared at his fist for a while. He appeared to be thinking. Armin winced; it looked quite painful. Then he whirled around, grinning maniacally and pointing at Armin, who took an uneasy step backwards. Whenever Eren had ideas, they usually went wrong. Like that time he dragged Armin and Mikasa up onto the school roofs and got them all suspended for two days. Or the time they tried stealing Eren’s dad’s boat and ended up almost getting shipwrecked in the middle of the harbour. Or when they tried to light a bonfire for New Year’s and ended up almost causing a city-wide crisis. If there was one thing Armin had learned over his long and often trying relationship with Eren, it was that any strategising should be left to the one who was good at it. That is to say, left to Armin. Or possibly even Mikasa, though she had her reckless side. Basically not Eren. That was what he was trying to say.

“I’ve got it!” Eren yelled. “You need to distract Jean!”

“What? Distract Jean from what? Or whom? Do I even need to ask this question?”

“Mikasa, of course! Just don’t let him anywhere near her, okay?”

“Eren,” Armin said patiently, “Apart from the fact that this idea is really very stupid, it’s also chauvinistic and slightly patronising. If you are Mikasa’s friend, you will realise her freedom to choose whether or not she would like to do anything or go anywhere with either you or Jean or neither of you, and to make a rational decision about this. Even if her decision is completely irrational, she will still be able to make it, because that is up to her.”

“Oh,” Eren said, deflating. “Yeah.”

Armin smiled. “I’ll still try and distract Jean for you. I just think you should probably reconsider the intentions behind this plan.”

At this, Eren perked up a little bit. “You will?”

“Yes,” Armin sighed. “Despite my complete lack of interest in this party, I am nonetheless, as you have reminded me at least once this evening, your best friend. So if this means going along with your ridiculous plans, then so be it. I will. And I will also be there to drag your sorry ass from the floor when Mikasa rejects you yet again.”

Eren glared at Armin. “Look, I thought you were supposed to be my best friend? Sheesh, that involves not brutally shooting my dreams down with your pinpoint pessimism.”

“I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist.”

Eren laughed and rolled his eyes. “That’s what they all say. Now come on, best friend, the party will be starting soon!”

“Great,” Armin muttered. “I am so excited for this, Eren, you would not believe how excited I am.”

“Quit with the sarcasm for a second and just embrace the moment, okay?”

“I don’t like the moment. It’s always out to get me and never gives me any warning when it does.”

Eren opened his mouth to say something, but was instead cut off by the shrill whistle of the doorbell. It diverted his attention long enough for Armin to take a few calming breaths before heading downstairs into the shitfest that Eren’s party was likely to be. He’d been dragged to a few by his friend before and hadn’t found them enjoyable. Though to be fair, a bunch of sweaty, slightly awkward fourteen-year-olds doing all sorts of illegal things hardly classifies as a good time in anyone’s book.

“Armin!” Eren yelled from below. “Come on down!”

Armin looked longingly back at Eren’s room. Granted, the books were limited and mostly restricted to comics and Japanese manga, but Armin could still find plenty of things to entertain himself while Eren had fun  in manners decidedly different. It was also cool and quiet and a much more inviting place to be than downstairs. People seemed to be streaming in at an alarming rate, and the music was already sending shudders through the framework of Eren’s house. His parents had chosen a good weekend to go down to the country on a ‘relaxing break’.

“Armin!”

Armin sighed, before running a hand through his hair and shutting the door of Eren’s room behind him. The music was even louder outside, a constant pounding that felt like nails were being drilled into Armin’s head. He could hear the chatter and laughter of everyone else around him, which to be honest sounded more like a swarm of wasps readying themselves for the kill. He was getting paranoid, of course, but when you thought about it what wasn’t there to be paranoid of? Really, anything could happen, and the anxious lead weight in Armin’s stomach was nowhere near unnecessary or unwarranted. Eren’s consistent refusal to deny this had started getting annoying years ago.

“There you are!” Eren ran over to him, Mikasa gliding along behind him. She always managed to be graceful, whatever she did. Armin had given up being jealous the moment she first talked to him and revealed herself to be one of the best people he’d ever met.

“Hey, Armin,” she said softly, smiling. “Enjoying the party?”

He laughed awkwardly. He was always more awkward around Mikasa than Eren, though conversations with Eren had taken their fair share of turns into uncomfortable silence brought around by Armin’s incompetence. If there was one thing to be said about this incompetence, it was well-rounded and gifted in a variety of fields, including social, physical and just a general inability to do most things humans were at least a little bit good at.

“Uhh...it’s okay,” he managed to cough out. Mikasa laughed.

“You know,” she said, “You didn’t have to come.”

Despite the fact that he knew Mikasa was being nice and he could completely understand where she was coming from, Armin couldn’t help the stab of hurt he felt when she said that. Too often those words had been in a different tone, one disappointed or annoyed at him actually showing up to a place at which he clearly wasn’t welcome.

“Of course he did!” Eren burst in with his usual lack of tact. “Armin’s my best friend, so as my designated number one wingman he is obliged to turn up to my parties and bail me out before I start throwing up in my parents’ favourite vase.”

Eren threw an arm around Armin’s shoulder, grinning. There certainly was charisma there, in those eyes that had yet to decide if they were blue or green, the smile showing sparkling, super-model teeth, the easy laugh. Eren knew how to speak to people. Sometimes he forgot how they worked, which was where Armin came in, but when it came down to it he had a gift for putting people at ease.

All except, apparently, Armin, because clearly Armin was doomed to be dragged to parties he didn’t want to be at for the rest of his life.

“Jaeger, my man! Where exactly are the drinks you promised us?”

“Reiner!” Eren grinned, fist-bumping the large blonde boy who now stood beside him. “They’re on the table in the kitchen. Please try not to end up running naked around the garden again though, the neighbours are still pretty pissed about last time.”

“I’ll do my best, Eren,” Reiner grinned, landing a punch to Eren’s shoulder that threw the smaller boy a large part of the way into next week. He walked off to talk to a tiny blonde girl, whose name Armin could remember as Annie for no reason other than that she’d once done a presentation on volcanoes when they were in junior school. He didn’t think he’d heard her speak since.

Eren coughed, fiddling awkwardly with his collar. “Uh...hey, Mikasa?”

“Yes?” she said, smiling slightly.

“Uh...would you like a drink?”

Mikasa shrugged lightly, not dropping her smile. “Sure, why not?”

Armin grinned internally as he watched Eren’s face light up. There was a spring in his step as he walked off with Mikasa, babbling away about things that were probably inconsequential and most likely boring, but things that kept Mikasa smiling in that way she did; like she was just happy to be there, happy to be alive, nothing more and nothing less. It was one of the reasons Armin loved her so much; her smile, and the way she expected nothing of the world.

“Hey, Armin!” someone said, and Armin jumped as a long arm was slung around his shoulders.

“Uhh, hey, Ymir,” he said awkwardly, looking up into a freckled face bared in its trademark sardonic smile. That was the thing about Ymir. Armin could rarely tell whether or not she was being serious, which was fine in the way that people weren’t good at telling that about Armin either, but also slightly annoying when trying to have a conversation with her.

“What’s up, my young blonde friend?”

“Ymir, I’m only two years younger than you.” Armin sighed. And I wouldn’t really classify you as a friend, he added silently, given that this is probably the third time we’ve talked in our lives.

Ymir gasped, slapping a hand to a chest in a gesture of mock surprise. “Ah,” she said, “So young! Not yet burdened with the strains of such a harsh and unforgiving life! The cruel winters press your nose into the cold and frozen earth, and yet you resist the call of cynicism and live out your days as a pure and unsullied gem in this sea of jaded pebbles.”

Armin stared. Ymir looked at him and winked. “You know,” she continued normally, “I’d like to thank you for being one of the few people in this room who would be able to follow that.”

Armin raised an eyebrow. “Even Historia?”

“Well, minus Historia, of course. Speaking of which, have you seen her anyway? She was running late and told me to get going, but my heart is at a loss without my precious prin - ah, there she is. Laters, Armin!”

“Laters,” Armin said quietly, waving as Ymir ran over to her tiny girlfriend. Historia looked as radiant as ever, possibly even more so given that she’d done something to her face to make it glow even more than usual and accentuate the blue in her eyes. Her small body was draped in a pretty red dress, and there was a flower of the same shade perched in her hair. She was drawing several looks from interested parties nearby, but the kiss Ymir left on her cheek and the smile she gave back put a disgruntled stop to that.

Armin suddenly felt very small in this sea of teenagers, all of them chatting and laughing and generally having a good time. He didn’t like to say he had very little in common with any of them; Eren, for example, supported a very good rugby team; Reiner had a passion for good romantic literature; Historia liked maths. But at this very moment they were dedicated to other passions; pursuing a romantic interest, perhaps; drinking; making out with a romantic interest already secured as a girlfriend. And really, none of those things appealed to Armin, and there was nobody currently interested in anything else.

He looked over to where Eren and Mikasa were, Jaegerbombs in their hands and smiles lighting up their faces enough to irradiate everyone else in the vicinity. It was pretty cute, actually. Eren said something that made Mikasa laugh, and she said something back, and the two were the spitting image of lovestruck teenagers. Armin was going to have to revise his assessment of cute to really adorable.

“Cute, aren’t they?” muttered a voice to his side. Armin yelped.

“Come on!” he yelled. “What is it with people deciding to say random things at my shoulder? I didn’t know I had been designated the spot for all lost and broken souls to come moan to!”

“Wow Armin,” whoever it was chuckled, “I didn’t know you were capable of such levels of sass.

Armin turned around to see a familiar long face smirking at him. “Oh,” he muttered. “Sorry, Jean.”

Jean laughed, “Don’t be. You looking at Young Love over there too?”

“Yup,” Armin replied, smiling despite himself. “They’re cute, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jean said wistfully. Armin winced.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve got to stop apologising, come on! Not everything you say is wrong or offensive or weird, you know. Quit it.”

“Sorry,” Armin muttered. “Ah, sorry! Oh…”

Jean laughed, swatting Armin upside the head. “You’re useless sometimes, you know that?”

“Uhh…”

Armin was saved from having to reply by a roar from the rest of the room. He looked up to see Mikasa press her lips against Eren’s, him grabbing her waist in surprise and then kissing her back. Several people started clapping and a cheer started rippling around everyone watching; those who hadn’t been were soon joining in. A bottle of the nearest alcohol - which turned out to be the only bottle of champagne Eren had managed to find - was poured over their heads, dragging Eren’s hair into his eyes and plastering Mikasa’s black dress to her skin. The two carried on making out, regardless of the attention, and Armin had to give them a large amount of credit just for that.

“You owe me a tenner, Braus!” Reiner yelled.

“Oh fuck you, Braun, that doesn’t count, I said hook up!”

“Well at this rate you’ll owe me one by the end of the night!”

The rest of the group roared with laughter, before Reiner eventually wised up to the whole thing and started herding people away like stray cats. Armin laughed. Jean did too, but it was a bitter, wistful laugh, one stained with disappointment and loss.

“Oh,” Armin said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Jean smacked him on the head again. “Haven’t I told you to stop being sorry for things you shouldn’t be, idiot? Besides, it’s okay. I’m not really batting for that team anymore. Or at least, I've realised that I never was.”

“Oh,” Armin said, before the realisation finally kicked in, “Oh!”

“Yeah,” Jean laughed, “What about you? Still slogging steady? I hadn’t really pegged you out as a ladies’ man for a while, if I’m honest with you.”

Armin shrugged. “I don’t think I’m batting for any team, really.”

Jean nodded. “Fair enough. Want a drink?”

“Oh, uh, no, I’m good. Just water, or something.”

“Sure,” Jean grinned, shouldering through the crowds and past the lump that was Eren and Mikasa. He came back a couple of minutes later holding two paper cups, one which reeked of beer, the other fizzing softly.

“There was something in the sink I didn’t even want to smell, so I just got you coke.”

“Thanks,” Armin said. Minutes ticked by slowly, painfully, as he wracked his brain to try and think of something, anything to say. What did you say in situations like this? Did you ask about parents or family or what? That was the usual go-to for the family friends his grandfather occasionally took him to see, or with teachers and people like that, but what did you do when it was someone your age? A lot taller, granted, but still a teenager, so what did you then?

“Want to go outside?” Jean asked, breaking Armin’s panicked train of thought.

“Uh, yeah!”

Armin didn’t think he’d ever been so thankful for something in his life. It was so hot and stuffy inside, and even though he’d done nothing but stand in the middle of Eren’s living room for an hour, he was starting to sweat.

Jean led the way out, clearing a path for them through the hordes of drunk and horny teenagers all trying and failing to find a room, and eventually just giving up and doing whatever they wanted to right there. Armin spotted Connie and Sasha kissing quietly in a corner;  Ymir and Historia were so far gone they were just making out on the coffee table. Jean laughed, which Armin took to mean he could also find this funny, and so gave a soft chuckle when Annie turned Reiner down. Which, to be honest, would probably be funny in any situation, but teenage humour was weird, and sometimes Armin couldn’t really figure out what exactly was acceptable or not.

“So, how are things with you?” Jean said once they had hit the fresh air of the garden, which mercilessly was free from Reiner’s streaking.

“Not too bad, I guess. I’m not doing anything much.”

“Shit, man, you’ve gotta be doing loads of stuff! Like, you’re champion at pretty much everything in school, there’s got to be something you’ve got going on.”

“Well, yeah, but...it’s just stuff like that. School stuff. Nothing important.”

“All that shit’s way more important than just, I dunno, football or rugby though. Like, it’ll get you into uni and stuff.”

“Actually, a lot of universities like you to have extra-curricular commitments as well; it shows you’re a well-rounded individual.”

“Well, there you go,” Jean grinned, tipping his cup, “All that football’s good for something.”

Armin laughed. “Yeah. How are things with you? Uh...sorry for asking this, I guess, but if you’re not batting for that team, why did you sound so sad when Mikasa kissed Eren?”

Armin cursed as soon as the words left his mouth. He probably shouldn’t have said that. He looked at Jean’s face and realised that he definitely shouldn’t have said that. It was too soon, it wasn’t appropriate, they didn’t even know each other...there were so many reasons why he shouldn’t have asked that question.

“I guess it’s cos I thought I had a crush on her for a really long time,” Jean said eventually. “And, like, that shit was my childhood. I mean, everyone knew I had a crush on Mikasa Ackerman, it went on for years and like, everyone knew it was hopeless too, but it was still a thing, y’know? And I guess I don’t really want to let that go just yet.”

“Oh,” Armin said. “Yeah, I get you.”

They talked like that for a while, about everything and nothing, until the sun came up and Armin realised this was the latest he’d ever stayed up and he was bone tired. Jean smirked when he yawned and ruffled his hair.

“Come on, Armin, I’m going to hit the road home. My folks wanted me back five hours ago.”

“They haven’t called?” Armin exclaimed, incredulous.

“Yeah, probably got a load of missed calls and a shitstorm to get back to,” Jean said. “But they know by now not to call the police until it’s morning and I’m still out. I’ve got about a half an hour window.”

“Better get back then,” Armin muttered. Another yawn came and went.

“Yeah. See you in school. It was nice talking, I liked it.”

“Yeah!” Armin said, gauging whether or not Jean was being genuine. He decided that he was. It was a nice feeling, to realise someone genuinely enjoyed your company.

Jean waved goodbye and then left, leaving Armin to contemplate the evening. He was a little blown away by the whole thing, if he was honest. Jean was nice, a lot nicer than Armin had first thought. His abrasive personality slightly gave the wrong impression, but there were several layers to a human being, after all; Armin had known that for a while, and always wondered why people never bothered stripping them away when they talked to others. Everyone was always so content to live unaware of the depth of the people they spoke to every day.

Maybe that was why it had been so nice talking to Jean; he’d found someone willing to cut through all of Armin’s layers to find the one at the bottom. Armin had liked that. He’d really liked it. And for once, school on Monday didn’t generate the same stomach-churning nervousness as it usually did. In fact, Armin could have sworn he was almost excited.


End file.
